TMG Properties
by McgeeIsMyFave
Summary: What would have happened to Tim McGee if he was more injured from that car accident? Tim leads a very different life, one full of problems, one of them called Gibbs. Very Very AU!
1. Chapter 1

Timothy McGee lay in the hospital bed, his left leg raised in traction. His mom was sat in the chair next to the bed, the only sign she had been in the car was the small cut to her forehead. Tim took the broken leg as payment for him and his mom still being alive.

"When is the doctor coming around?" Tim had been awake most of the morning, Sarah was at a friends house and his dad was somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic, engaged in wargames with the US Sixth Fleet and the British Second Fleet.

"He said he'd be around before noon, Tim." Alice McGee knew her son hated doing nothing, and not having his computer, or his writing pads available was making him very annoyed.

"Well, it's now 11.45am. That makes it noon-ish, before noon is earlier than 11.30." Tim had always hated people who couldn't be specific when it came to time. He could estimate to within ten minutes most of his activities, he never understood why others couldn't do the same. "I just want to go home, Mom." Tim knew he wouldn't be going home for a few days. Home right now was a two storey detached villa in Naples, Italy, while Tims father completed his three years as commanding officer of the US Sixth Fleet, along with the base.

"I know, Tim, but we have to wait on the doctors." Alice wondered if she had let Tim drive too soon here in Italy. In the States, he had been driving for three months, but when they moved to Italy, Tim had had to wait nine months, Italian law requiring a person to be eighteen to drive, or seventeen with parental supervision.

Tim had been begging her to drive, and she finally relented. She had picked Tim up from the International school both children attended, watching as Tim came out of the school, talking to Hiro Nishikori, a young Japanese man who was Tims closest friend in Italy. What made most people stare at the two men was the languages they heard. Tim was speaking in rapid Japanese, while Hiro replied in fluent Greek. Hiro, like Tim, had moved around with his parents, both of whom worked for the Japanese Foreign Ministry. Alice smiled, her language skills, while not as good as her sons, were developed enough to know the two boys were talking about their classmates. Unlike Tim, Alice had to focus on the words, and concentrate on translating them. Tim had an uncanny ability to think and speak in different languages, making him ideal as an interpreter, a job he had flat out refused to think of as a career opportunity.

When Tim had spotted her, he said goodbye to Hiro very quickly, switching to Italian when he got closer enough to his mother.

"Per favore fatemi guidare l'auto/"Please let me drive the car?" Tim begged, his eyes pleading with his mother. He had had his seventeenth birthday the month before, and his learning licence had come through. If he had been in the US, he would have been driving on his own by now, they both knew.

"Fine, but take it slow, ok?" Alice knew her son was a careful driver, much more careful than either her or husband. Twenty minutes later, she and Tim were on a countryside road, taking a different route home than normal, allowing Tim to get used to the car. Alice thought she heard a noise, when she felt the car move sideways, and the world spun around her. The next thing she knew, italian paramedics were around her. She knew enough Italian to let them know she was a wife of a US Admiral. This made the Italian medics take them to the Naval Hospital Naples, after Tim had been cut out of the car. Alice had been at the hospital all night, while Tim had been in surgery, his leg being reset, the wounds cleaned. Now, she was waiting for the doctor to arrive to discuss Tims injuries.

"Finally," she heard Tim mutter, bringing her out of her memories, seeing the doctor walking over.

"Mrs McGee, Tim, I've gone over the xrays several times. It doesn't look too good, I'm afraid, Tim." Dr Mark Savage was not looking forward to this at all.

"Why? My legs broken, how bad can it be?" Tim was well aware of how bad a break to the leg could get, knowing careers in the US military had come to an end due to a sever break.

"Tim, your right leg has no damage to it, except for some bruising. Your left leg took the brunt of the impact. You have a compound fracture to the tibia and fibula, your kneecap was broken in three places, and the femur has a spiral fracture. You had bone fragments cutting into your leg muscles, and you have also dislocated your leg, the bone has come out of the hip socket." Dr Savage spoke quietly, but nothing could soften the damage the crash had caused. "Tim, you will be in traction for several months, you will more than likely require several surgeries over the next year, to make sure the leg heals as well as it can."

"But I will have full use of the leg, right? I mean, I will walk again, normally, right?" Tim demanded of the doctor, his anger rising, knowing his future was being affected right now.

"I can't answer that," Mark answered, though this wasn't true.

"The hell you can't!" Tim exploded.

"Timothy!" Alice exclaimed.

"No, Mom! He knows, I know he does, so tell me the truth, will I walk properly again?" Tims eyes stayed fixed on the doctor, pinning him to the spot on the floor.

"Based on your current scans, and the amount of damage we have detected, you have a less than twenty percent chance to walk normally again, you will more than likely require some pins inserted into the bones to help them heal properly."

With those words, Tim felt his whole world fall down around him, his future was gone in that very moment. He would never be able to be an NCIS Special Agent, never to chase down criminals trying to escape justice. Tim let the tears fall, not caring who saw him. Alice went to hug her son, but he had closed off from her, turning his head away, wrapping his arms around his chest.

"Tim, there is still a chance you will walk normally again. The surgery and physical therapy will help with that," Mark encouraged, hoping the young man wouldn't give up based on the statistics.

"Yeah, but we both know thats not true. I can't start the therapy until the injuries have all healed and the plaster casts have come off. That will be what, six months, maybe longer," Tim just kept looking at the wall. "That is without any additional surgery. My whole life is now on hold for the next year, and why? Because I was a stupid driver who almost got my mom killed."

Alice had not mentioned anything about the other driver to Tim, but now was the time.

"Tim, the other driver, was driving more than thirty kph over the speed limit, and he was drunk. You were below the speed limit, and last time I checked, had never been drunk in your life. He almost killed both of us, not you." Alice hoped these words got through to her son, knowing he had an unmatched ability to sink into deep self reflection, ignoring the rest of the world, herself included, for hours, if not days.

Dr Savage and Mrs McGee left Tim alone for a few minutes, allowing him to cry in private, while the two adults discussed the options available to them. Tim had been playing chess since he was old enough to sit on his dads knee while he played against fellow sailors in the rec rooms on base. He began moving through the different options open to him, thinking ahead by approximately ten years. Tim knew that college was at least two years away at that point, his dream of getting into NCIS by the time he was twenty five was slipping away from him. At this point, Tim had no idea how far away his dream would get from him, or what would take its place.

_One Year Later._

"Well, Tim, I can safely say that is it. You are done with the operations, the bones are healing nicely, and it only took nine pins, four surgeries, and twelve months." Dr Savage said all this with a smile, knowing the now adult Timothy McGee had suffered from severe depression from his injury, the chances of him ever walking without a limp had decreased with every surgery, and every month spent in a plaster cast.

"Great! When can I start running in marathons again?" Tim had developed a dark sense of humour in order to get over the injury. Tim knew his limp would stop him becoming a special agent in any federal agency, though his computer skills would easily get him a job there.

"I'd say in about six months, depending on physical therapy, you should be able to run about a mile, on a treadmill, without any pain or adverse effects. To be honest, Tim, I want you to stick to swimming and cycling, easier on the body, and you are going to have trouble with the leg later in life, arthritis being a major concern." Mark had told Tim all about every surgery and every treatment he had given him, watching as the young man had absorbed the knowledge like a sponge.

"Got it, Doc, we both know I hated running for a bus, let alone a twenty six mile trek. I'll stick with the bike and the pool for now." Tim had not yet been allowed to drive a car, but he desperately wanted to, knowing he had to do it sooner or later. Tim had bought himself an electric bike for the house, knowing the Italian sun sometimes made it too hot to be outside exercising his leg. He had gotten the bike with his own money, after the other driver had admitted liability, and had gotten into the car, knowing he had been drinking.

Tim had received a payout of nearly three hundred thousand euros, which had converted into just over three hundred thousand US dollars. Tim had convinced his parents to allow him to have some of the interest each month as an allowance, buying the exercise bike, and investing the money each month. Tim had managed to gain a small income each month, of about four hundred dollars, by buying and selling shares online. Tim only ever invested his interest amount each month, the rest of the money going into a separate account. Tim was currently looking at studying finance and banking at college, but he also had another interest. During his year off school due to his injury, Tim completed each weeks schoolwork on a Monday, leaving the rest of the week free. He spent most of it with his mom, visiting the houses she was doing up in Italy.

Alice McGee was a property developer in her spare time, which was a lot more now her children were older. She would renovate properties for people, for which she received a fee, as well as buying, renovating and reselling the properties for a profit. This money she saved, splitting it between her two children, saving for their college educations. Sarah, being only eleven, had no interest in her mothers part time career. Tim, on the other hand, showed a keen interest in this business, giving his mother suggestions, as well as setting her up a website, email address and making sure that she stayed one step of her competitors, by giving out his email and telephone number as well, so he could speak to clients on his mothers behalf.

Alice McGee had no idea how much she had changed her eldest child life, just by inviting him to see an apartment on the seafront of Naples instead of lying in bed, wallowing in self pity over his broken leg.


	2. Chapter 2

William McGee watched as his son walked into the kitchen, his limp more noticeable, his hair more untidy, both signs that Tim had been laying in the hammock outside, thinking deeply. Whenever this happened, William knew his son was going to say something he didn't like.

"Tim, sit down, tell me what's on your mind when you are ready." William McGee was a very direct man, open and honest with his children, always supportive and loving, and, on occasion, a bit of a hardass when he felt they were being deliberately difficult and stubborn.

"I've been thinking about college, and what to do after college. You know, because of my pirates walk." William smiled, enjoying his sons dark sense of humour, his wife not liking it at all. "And, I think I've decided what I want to do."

"OK," William said, putting down the local italian paper, his son now having his full attention, Alice was keeping her eyes on the stove, but her ears on the table. "Which school, and what will you be studying?"

"The Corcoran School of Art and Design, and the BFA course in interior design." Tim said, almost mumbling the words.

"You want to do what?! My God, Timothy! Are you out of your mind? What happened to Johns Hopkins?" Most people would have believed these words were yelled by Admiral William McGee, and they would be wrong. Alice McGee had screeched these words, her eyes turning on her son, not believing her ears. "Why do you want to end up putting paint on walls for a living, for crying out loud?"

"You do it all the time, Mom, and besides, you said I'm good at it." Tim expected this reaction from his dad, not his mom.

"And you are, and it's fine for extra money, Tim, something to keep you busy, but not as a career. You have a first rate mind, and you are not going to squander it deciding on whether to have the den in pastels or stripes. Now you better think again about your college courses." Alice McGee demanded, not allowing her son to throw away the opportunities his intellect had granted him.

"And what if I don't want to do biomedicine anymore, or computer science, or chemistry, or engineering? What career have I got, Mom? I can't join NCIS or the Navy, I can't do anything like that anymore." Tim shouted at his mother.

"Well, young man, if you do decide to waste your time at Corcoran, you can forget your trust fund. I'm not wasting the money on some stupid art degree when you are capable of so much more." Alice McGee regretted the words the moment she said them.

"Fine, I'll pay for it myself, then. But I am going to Corcoran, and I'm going to be a realtor, I'm going to set up my own business, and I'm going to be good at it, and I'll have done it by the time I'm thirty." With that declaration of his future, Tim stood up from the table, limping out, his head drooping to his chest, hurt by his mothers words. "I don't want any dinner, I've lost my appetite." As Tim made his way to his room, he heard his dad speaking to his mother.

"My God, Alice, what were you thinking? Were you even thinking, actually? For the first time in twelve months, Tim was actually smiling about something, really, genuinely happy about college. And instead of supporting him, you jumped down his throat worse than a marine drill sergeant and tried to blackmail him, that we would only pay for his college education if he did what you wanted him to. Well, I'm telling you now, if Tim wants to go to art school, he's going, and like it or not, I'm paying for his education. If I were you, I'd think about apologizing to your son." Tim heard his dad storm out, knowing his dads temper was reaching maximum volume, and that he would head to the downstairs gym to burn some of the anger off. Tim hoped his mom came around and supported him when he left for college.

* * *

Two hours later, Tim was sat in room, the webpage for the course at Corcoran open. He wasn't reading it, just looking at it, his mind completely focused on the course, not noticing his father enter the room.

William had spent two hours rowing and cycling, burning off the anger that had risen from his wifes declaration that she had made before dinner. Will had known Tim had looked at applying to Johns Hopkins, CalTech and MIT when he was younger, and had made the decision not to apply at sixteen, deciding to wait until he was eighteen to enter college, the same age as his classmates. Will wondered what would have happened if Tim had left Italy two years ago, and gone to college to study a science or math course.

"Tim, we need to talk," Will hoped his wife had not hurt his son with her words. "Do you still want to go to college?" He saw Tims nod. "And you still want to go to Corcoran?" Another nod. "Then make your application." For the first time, Tims eyes moved away from the computer screen.

"You heard Mom, my trust fund won't be made available to me. I can afford college with the payout, but I wouldn't have enough after college," Tim painfully said, his voice cracking under the emotional turmoil.

"Yes, it will, both me and your mother have access to the account, I'll make sure you have all the money you need for the course. I made a vow on the day you born. I promised to love you unconditionally, support you in everything you do, and make sure you are happy, now and forever. Going to college to study Interior Design has made you happy, and for that, you will have my full support." Will watched as the spark reignited in his sons eyes. "Don't get me wrong, I would have been just as supportive if it had been MIT or Johns Hopkins, and it will take some getting used to, but I'll back you every step of the way."

"Thanks, Dad." Tim was very grateful for his fathers support, knowing he would need to talk to his mom again about his future.

"When you were in the kitchen, you said some other things. I guess you have it all planned out, what to do after college?" Will wanted his son to talk to him, to open up to him, rather than close down, and become the TImothy McGee he had been for the last twelve months.

"Yeah, most of it. There are a few things to do to become a realtor. There are prerequisite courses when you apply for a realtor licence, such as so many hours of college education, depending on the state." Tim confirmed, his father having some ideas what his son would need to do.

"I presume the degree would take care of that?" William McGee had very little idea on what the people who sold his house did to get the job, only that they were very good and reputable people.

"Yeah, but there are other courses I need to complete as well. I also need to get a job with a realtor broker, someone who can mentor me through the exams, and get me started in the business." Tim had done his research into his choice of profession. "I'll need to basically set myself up as a one-man business, needing business cards, signs, advertising, things like that."

"I take it this won't be cheap?" William McGee had a rough idea how much this would cost.

"By the time, I've left college, probably about fifteen hundred dollars, give or take. After that, I have to join the National Association of Realtors, and build up my portfolio of properties." Tim knew this would be a lot of hard work, something he was already starting on.

"What kind of portfolio?" William McGee guessed it wouldn't just be a photo album of houses sold.

"From what I've looked at, it's a variety of houses renovated, redeveloped, sold on, as well as a venture into the rental market. That's where the payout money would come into play." Tim looked at his father, hoping he didn't yell at him the way his mother did.

"Come into play? Explain it to me, please?" William McGee always knew his son had a good head on his shoulders, but never did he see his son as a businessman.

"I'd use the money to buy a property, renovate it, and sell it on, hopefully for a good profit. I'd have to do this a few times, before having enough profit to buy a property, which would then be rented out." Tim had looked at companies offering these services. "This would hopefully be the start of the portfolio." Tim kept his eyes on his dad, hoping his confidence was evident.

"You going to do this in the States?" Will had always known Tim would return home one day.

"Yeah, for the first few years after college. I'd get my licences to sell in Maryland and Virginia, it would be easier than restricting myself, especially trying to sell or rent to people who work in the District." Tim was trying to show his father that this wasn't some crazy idea, but something he really wanted to do. "I can then apply for a reciprocity licence to sell and rent in the District itself. If I did buy any houses before my licence came through, I wouldn't be able to sell them myself. Renting, however is different."

"OK, Tim, you've lost me. I thought you said you would start renting a few years down the line." Will always hated when Tims mind was thinking at warp speed, while his was left light years, still travelling on a steam boat.

"Yeah, with my own money. I'm hoping to get you and Uncle Phil to come into partnership with me, and start renting out apartments when I first leave college. That way, we can all make some extra money, and you and Mom can get started on a retirement fund." Tim knew his parents had saved every bit of money for him and Sarah, with their own futures, while secure, would not be full of expensive holidays.

"That is something to think about in a few years, then. You keep me updated about it, and I'll talk to Phil when the time is right. Which won't be until you enter your final year of college." William said this with certainty, not wanting his son to start making plans right away. "So, how much will college be, then?" Will, like his son, had a head for figures.

"Tuition fees will be about seventy five thousand, but there is an art grant that's available. As i earn course credits, a percentage is knocked off the next semesters fees. I could get up to eighteen thousands dollars in grants, all taken off the course fees." Tim was very relieved at that, knowing that money would come in handy for the projects he would have to complete for his course.

"Well then, you better start making plans. Your mother, Sarah and I will be in Italy until next June, meaning you will be in Washington on your own for nearly ten months. You better behave," William McGee warned his son, knowing Timothy had never been in trouble in his life.


	3. Chapter 3

Timothy McGee was stood outside of Crystal Towers in Arlington, Virginia, his home for his first year at college. Tim was very excited about college, even though his parents were in Italy. He had left his parents four days ago, and wouldn't see them until Christmas. He had been apart from his father for more than four months, but never his mom. The longest they had been apart was for two weeks when he went on camping trips with the boy scouts.

"Well, Tim, I think this is it," Claire Davenport said, having made sure the car was empty of Tims belongings. "You are starting college. I can't believe it."

"Don't panic, Tim, she was like this when Kara and Isobel started college," Philip Davenport warned. Tim looked around, noticing he was the only student that was accompanied by armed guards.

"Aunty Claire, Uncle Phil, thanks for the last four days, it has been great staying with you guys…" Tim started.

"But we need to go, now," Philip said with a smirk.

"Well, I'm the only guy here with a security attachment surrounding him." Tim had seen some of the looks he was getting off his fellow students, and he guessed he was being talked about right now.

"Yeah, just like the girls. Well, good luck, Tim, if you need anything, give us a call, we'll help any which way we can." Philip Davenport knew Tim would never ask for help, but he would help his godson anyway.

"Oh, Tim, if only your mom and dad could see you now," Claire was close to tears. Tim hugged her to stop them.

"I'll give you a call next weekend, and to stop you worrying about me," Tim had known his godmother would worry over him constantly, "Once I've got my class schedule, I'll call you and we can go for coffee, OK?"

"OK, Tim, OK, right, we should leave you to get settled, ok?" Claire was doing her best not to cry, as she got into the back of the agent-driven sedan. Tim closed the door for his godmother, stepping back onto the sidewalk. Like all government cars, the blacked out windows were designed not to roll down, so Tim couldn't see the two people who he felt were his second set of parents sitting in the car, watching him. He waved as the car drove off, his teenage years ending at that point, as he began the slow journey into adulthood, but first, he had to survive college.

* * *

Tim was setting up his computer equipment when the door opened, revealing a young man trying to carry a lot of bags. Tim was on his feet in an instant.

"Let me help, you must be Clark," Tim had been told about his roommates identity at Orientation.

"Yeah, Tim, right?" Clark had only gotten on the course three days previously due to student dropouts. He had travelled on a bus for more than twenty hours to get here. "Thank God I made it." Clark dropped all his bags in the living space. "Where's the bathroom?" Clark demanded.

"In your room, that one there," Tim pointed to the room on the left.

"Not to be rude," Clark shouted over his shoulder, "But I've been on a bus for over seven hours without a toilet break." Tim grimaced, understanding the mans pain. Rather than do nothing, Tim began moving the bags into the bedroom that would be Clarks for the next ten months.

"Where do you want your stuff?" Tim yelled at his new roommate.

"Just dump them anywhere, I'll sort them out later. I need food first, I am starving," Clark yelled back. Tim hoped he liked home cooking, as Tim was planning to eat like he had been doing in Italy, lots of fresh vegetables and salads, as well as plenty of fresh juice.

"You like Italian?" Tim asked, closer to the bathroom now he had brought in some of the bags, so his voice was now quieter. "Or you want something else?" Tim hoped the man was up for sharing food, as it would make it cheaper, food wise.

"Italians fine, I'll eat anything so long as it's not shrimp. Can't stand it," Clark said, leaving the bathroom. "Are you ordering in? Or do you cook as well?"

"I'll be cooking, I've been living in Italy for the last three years. I've gotten used to the food over there," Tim admitted.

"Great, I'll make you a deal, Tim, you cook, I'll clean, because I am a disaster in the kitchen," Clark hated cooking, preferring to make easy food that filled him, rather than the culinary masterpieces that he suspected his roommate would be making.

"Fine with me. You can start on your unpacking, and I'll get started on dinner, unless you need a hand?" Tim offered, knowing he, himself, preferred to unpack on his own, that way everything went where it should.

"No, it'll be ok, all I've got is clothes and my equipment. Shouldn't take too long."

"What equipment do you need?" Tim didn't know what course his new found friend was on.

"I'm doing fashion design, so I've brought my sewing machine, sewing kit, colouring and dye kit, as well as my design board. What course you on?" Clark had left the door to his room open, so talking was easier this time around.

"Interior Design, BFA."

"Cool, you can help me decorate my room then."

"Sure, as long as you get me some decent clothes," Tim asked. "The US is seriously different in fashion to Italy."

"How do you mean?" Clark had come into the kitchen, smelling the chicken Tim was preparing with herbs and seasoning.

"Well, Naples is a lot warmer than DC for a start," Tim laughed, forgetting the difference in temperature between the two cities. "I need to buy some sweaters and jackets, and soon." Tim was hoping he would get some help, not knowing what would be the right fashion to buy right now.

"You mean you want to be my walking dress up doll?" Clark smirked at him, wondering if Tim knew what he was volunteering for.

"I bet you anything you won't beat the girls I knew in Italy," Tim said, accepting the offer from his new friend.

* * *

Three months later

Tim had finished packing, going to his grandparents for the Christmas holidays, his parents and sister would arrive a few days after him. He was very excited to see all his family, but was shocked by what he heard coming from the bedroom of his roommate.

"I can't believe you are doing this to me, Mom… It's Christmas… I don't care, he has his own home and family, I've only got you guys… Fine, tell him and your husband I hope they choke on the Christmas pudding!" Tim couldn't believe what he had heard, knowing everything was not alright in the Dalton household. Leaving his room, he moved closer to Clarks, when the door flew open, his friend appearing in an obvious rage. "Sorry you had to hear that, Tim. I guess I'll be staying in DC for Christmas." Hearing that tone of resignation, Tim decided otherwise for his roommate.

"Well, I know a family that have no problem with you being gay, as long as you can put up with my little sister bothering you for a few days," Tim knew he wouldn't enjoy the holidays knowing Clark was stuck at college on his own. "Come with me to Providence, my grandparents and my parents won't mind, we normally end up with friends coming over to see us anyway."

"Tim, I can't do that. Besides, won't your parents be upset having me there, your dad is in the Navy." Clarks uncle and dad were career army officers and had very strong Christian views, and had made it very obvious they had a huge issue with Clarks choice in sexual preference.

"My dad doesn't care if you are gay or straight, as long as you a good person." Tim had had this talk with his dad when a Lieutenant on his staff was investigated for being a lesbian. "He will be more angry with me for leaving you here on your own than being with us." Tim was reaching for cell phone, needing to call his grandparents and make sure it was alright to bring Clark.

"I haven't got any presents for everyone, though," Clark said sheepishly, not having as much money as his parents had promised him. He was planning to get a job in the new year.

"Well, what about all the stuff you've designed for your classes, couldn't you give them away?" Tim suggested, knowing there was a massive amount of clothes sitting in a basket in the bedroom.

"Tim, most of them are crap." Clark almost screamed.

"Really? You have a 4.0 grade point average, are top of your class and one of your tutors said they could see your designs on the catwalk at Paris Fashion Week. Yeah, they must be awful," Tim didn't know if he could get any more sarcasm into his voice. Hearing the phone ring, he turned away from Clark. "Hi, Grandma...yeah, I'm fine… no, I'm still coming...listen, my roommate is having some problems with his family...I can bring him?... that is fantastic...no, he's not allergic to anything… but he doesn't like shrimp...Thanks, Grandma, I love you, tell Grandpa Joe the same...bye" With that, Tim had gotten his friend an invite to the Sumner/McGee Christmas in Providence, Rhode Island. "Get packing, the bus leaves at eight tonight, and we get to Providence at nearly six in the morning. I'm taking a pillow and blanket if you want to do the same. I'll book you a ticket now." Tim looked at his friend, seeing him standing there. "Clark, we have four hours until we need to leave, get moving!" This seemed to spur Clark into action, who began muttering about what clothes to take with him. Watching him go, Tim smiled, happy to know his friend wouldn't be alone at Christmas.

* * *

Five hours later, Tim was sat on the bus, Clarks head on his shoulder, sleeping soundly. Tim never could sleep when he was travelling, unless it was on a plane. He watched as the young man slept, hoping his dreams were better than his reality.

He would surprise his parents with Clarks presence, knowing his parents had wanted to meet his boyfriend since Tim had first mentioned him.


	4. Chapter 4

"Clark, time to wake up, we're here," Tim shrugged his shoulder, moving his boyfriends head to get him to wake up.

"What's the time?" Clark asked without opening his eyes.

"Almost quarter to six, we are about fifteen minutes early getting in," Tim had spent the journey reading Tom Clancys _Executive Orders_, not having a lot of free time to read at college, except for a little time before bed. "You sleep ok?" Tim knew Clark had fallen asleep before they had left the city, and had slept for the entire bus ride.

"Yeah, but my pillow was lumpy," Clark grumbled, good naturedly.

"You can always exchange it," Tim suggested, smirking at him.

"Nah, this one is a keeper." Tim and Clark had fallen hard for each other, once Tim had told him he was bisexual, or as Clark called him, "flexible".

"Tim, over here!" A mans voice shouted across the bus station as Tim and Clark gathered their bags.

"Grandpa!" Tim shouted back, his smile spreading across his face. "We'll be right there." Tim watched Clarks face darken, concerning Tim. "What's wrong?"

"Does everyone know about us?" Clark hoped Tims family took the news better than his own did.

"More than likely," Tim admitted. "Look, we may be a military family, but we don't discriminate against anyone, unless they are army or airforce, and only then behind closed doors." Tim loved his family, and this one quirk was one he would admit to, after all, the Navy was way better than the Air Force or Army. "I have a cousin who is a drag queen in San Francisco, whose wife doesn't mind, and another cousin who is in an interracial, multilingual, different religion to her husband relationship. Me being bisexual and in a relationship with a man is easy compared to them." Tim was proud of his family diversity, but didn't go around bragging so as not to attract the wrong attention.

"OK, that makes me feel better. Take it that's your grandma with him, then?" Clark asked they got closer to the couple.

"Yeah, get ready for hugs." As Tim and Clark got out of the departure zone, Joseph and Emmeline Sumner were waiting for them, not having seen their grandson in a year, having been to visit their daughter and her family in Italy for Christmas. "Grandma, Grandpa," Tim exclaimed, rushing over to them, accepting the hugs with the same love he hugged them with.

"Oh, my little boy is so grown up," Emmeline gushed, having to stretch her arms to reach his face, his six foot one frame much bigger than her five foot five self. "And you must be Clark, so happy you can be here," hugging her grandsons boyfriend. "Don't you worry about intruding while you are here. Christmas is a time for family and friends, and you are both to Timothy, so you are to us as well." Emmeline had seen the looks pass between the young men as they got off the bus, recognizing the look of love they shared.

"Pleased to meet you, Clark, call me Joe, and this is Emmy," Stretching out his hand, Joe had also seen the looks shared between his grandson and this young man. He hoped neither of them broke the other hearts. "None of this Mr Sumner nonsense, you hear me?" Joe hated being addressed so formally.

"Yes...Joe," Clark almost called him Sir, like Tim, it was a product of being raised in a military household.

"Good lad, now, lets get you both a hot cup of coffee, and then back to the house. Emmy is dying to make you a proper breakfast," Joe picked up one of the backs before anyone could object. "She keeps thinking you will be starving at college, Tim. As if she couldn't remember the omelettes you were making when we were in Naples last year."

Clark wondered if this was other families were always like. His family were never this chatty, informal or loving. He felt as if he belonged there.

* * *

Three days later, Clark was standing in the kitchen, looking out over the frost covered garden. He and Tim had been sharing one of the guest rooms, but not sharing a bed. Tim had gone with his grandfather to collect his parents from the airport, Emmy and Clark had stayed behind to make sure the people carrier had enough room for everyone plus their luggage.

"Thinking about it won't help, you know?" Clark turned to see Emmy standing in the doorway. "You'll convince yourself they hate you before you even meet them." Emmy had seen this look on Alice's face when they first went to meet William's parents more than twenty five years ago. "Trust me, William and Alice will love you. You have only been here three days and I already think of you as part of the family." This was true, Emmy had watched this man become a part of the family without even trying.

"Thank you, but I just don't trust myself around Admiral McGee." Clark had been distrustful of men in uniform for several years, seeing his dad and uncle change the more promotions and medals they got, the power and influence changing them, and not in a good way.

"Will? Believe me, William McGee is one of the most honourable and courageous men serving today. He is not your father or uncle, he is cut from a different cloth, as my mother said when she first met him, god rest her soul." Emmy had known Will was different from other uniformed men, and had proved this time and time again. "He will have no problems with you, except for dating his son, but that is part of the course for everyone, I'm afraid. His main issue will be your parents refusing you home for Christmas. That is really going to get his goat up." Emmy was just as livid as her son-in-law would be when he heard the full story. "Now, no more thinking about what you can't change. Help me get dinner started. Tim said you were a disaster in the kitchen, time to change that. Lets see you peel the potatoes and carrots." Emmy soon regretted trying to distract Clark Dalton.

* * *

"It's **CHRISTMAS!**" Tim jerked awake, Clark almost fell out of bed, hearing a scream that he was sure was heard in space.

"What's going on? Who's hurt?" Clark had been dreaming about him and Tim on a warm beach somewhere, when he was rudely dragged back to reality.

"Sarah's awake, and seconds from coming through that door." Tim mumbled into his pillow. The bedroom door slammed opened three seconds later

"Tim, Tim, Tim, wake up, it's Christmas!" Sarah had reached her brothers bed, glaring at him as he kept his eyes closed. "Fine! Sleep, then. Clark, it's Christmas, come one, we have to go downstairs, right now!" Sarah demanded of her new brother, as she thought of Clark Dalton. "We have presents to open, and we get to have hot chocolate with marshmallows, and mom and grandpa will make pancakes, and dad will get the fire started! It's going to be great!" Tim watched his sister talking at a mile a minute through almost closed eyelids, his boyfriends mouth open in shock. The Christmas Monster had come out of hibernation, it seemed, Tim thought, closing his eyes once more.

Sarah McGees favourite time of year was Christmas, as it was the time of year she saw more of her family. Last year, Grandpa Joe and Grandma Emmy had visited them in Naples, as had Penny, her dads mom who didn't let Sarah or Tim call her grandma. This year, they had come to moms old home, and they had Clark with them, which was great, as Sarah always wanted more and more family around her at Christmas.

"Come on, Clark, we have to get everyone up!" Sarah turned back to her brother, the eleven year old knew she needed a different way to get him out of bed. She took a deep breath, took five steps and jumped, landing with a body flop on her brother.

"UMMMPPPFFF! Sarah, get off me!" Tim complained, Clark laughing at this picture in front of him

"Only if you agree to get up?" Sarah bargained.

"Yes, I'll get up," Tim wanted his sister off him so he could sleep a bit longer.

"Promise?" Sarah knew her brother too well.

"Yes."

"Pinky swear?" Tim opened his eyes to see Sarah sitting on him, her smile plastered on her face, knowing he had to get up now. Tim and Sarah had never broken a pinky swear between them ever, and Sarah knew Tim wouldn't break one now.

"Fine, I'm getting up," Tim knew when he was beaten.

Fifteen minutes later, three generations of Sumners, along with a McGee and a Dalton sat in front of the Christmas tree, the fire crackling away, the lights on the tree twinkling, and wrapping paper was being thrown everywhere. As he watched Sarahs face light up as she opened her present, revealing the scarf and t-shirt, Clark felt like truly belonged somewhere for the first time in years.


	5. Chapter 5

"I still think this is a bad idea." His wife was not happy, he knew.

"It was a bad idea for that man to think he could get away with it, restricting the boys own money because he does not live up to his expectations." He was livid, had been since Tim had told him the situation between Clark Dalton and his father, Brigadier General Franklin Dalton.

"Don't you think there is a better way to do this, though, Will? Ambushing the man at the SECDEFs official New Year party?" Alice was just as upset about the situation as her husband, but she thought any other way would be better than this.

"Absolutely not, this man cares about his image more than anything. He knows that if it came out publicly then his career will be harmed," William McGee was very aware of how this man valued how others saw him. "He will do his best to avoid that, and having your son dating the son of a man who now sits on the Joints Chiefs of Staff means his private life will soon be public, whether he likes it or not." Will was going to force Franklin Dalton into being a better father, whether Franklin Dalton wanted to or not.

* * *

"Will, have you met Franklin Dalton, our newest member here at the Pentagon?" Secretary Jeffrey Hulme had set up the meeting at the request of the Chief of Naval Operations, Admiral William McGee. "Franklin has just taken over as the Director of Force Management for the Army. Frank, meet Admiral William McGee, the incoming Chief of Naval Operations, and a man who will sit on the Joint Chiefs of Staff."

"Admiral, a pleasure to meet you, Sir." Franklin Dalton hoped his discomfort was well hidden, knowing this conversation couldn't be a very good one.

"General, how are you settling in at the Pentagon? A lot more meetings, I'm sure." Will had hated being assigned to the Pentagon but it gave Sarah a chance to go to a normal school, instead of the International ones she had been attending.

"Something like that, yes." Dalton was very worried, now, having been joined by Admiral Simon Halt, the Deputy Chief of Naval Operations, and General Peter Woolf, the Assistant to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. He knew this was a military ambush, and as the lowest ranked man there, excusing himself would be seen as a terrible breach of etiquette.

"Will, how's Tim doing at college? His first semester go alright?" Simon Halt had known Tim all his life, but rarely saw him, as he and Will often competed for the same assignments. When one of them was selected, the other was given the next best assignment, each of them getting their fair share of the better commands or positions.

"It went perfectly, though he was disappointed. Kept saying all his designs could have been better." Will had briefed all these men on their roles tonight, like himself, they were all family men.

"I'm still amazed that he is studying Interior Design," said Peter Woolf, "You hate having to have a new chair in your office." The men laughed at the joke, though Dalton had to force his.

"The degree is a stepping stone. He wants to have his own real estate and lettings company by the time he is thirty, and he's already working hard to get there." Tim had told him all about the last three months over a late night brandy in front of the fire over Christmas, though Tim had stuck to a white wine spritzer, not enjoying the spirits the way his father did.

"What can he be doing on top of his college work?" General Halt knew Tim was a very clever boy, he had never realised how clever.

"He has got himself a paid internship with an interior design company, working two afternoons a week. The job goes towards his college degree, plus, he has begun investing his money on the stock exchange." Will had given Tim control of three hundred dollars of his money back in September. The account now had over two thousand dollars in it. "He is making quite a profit from the sale of stocks and shares. The money goes towards buying his properties to do up and sell on when he graduates, making the start of his business that much easier."

"Your boy is nothing if not resourceful, Will," Jeff had met Tim back in September when Philip and Claire Davenport had taken him out for dinner, to celebrate getting into college, the four of them eating at the same restaurant, though Jeff was with his wife and friends that night.

"Well, he has a lot of support, of course. Phil and Claire have been keeping an eye on him while we were in Italy, plus his grandparents have made sure he phones them. But, it's his roommate I'm more concerned about." Franklin Dalton wanted the ground to swallow him at that point.

"Is he a bad influence on Tim? A troublemaker?" Peter asked, his eyebrows raised.

"No, nothing like that. Clark is doing a fashion design course, which, as you can imagine, the materials needed cost a lot of money," Will kept his eyes everywhere except on Franklin Dalton. "But the poor boy has had his trust fund stopped by his parents. All because the boy is gay, and doing a degree they are not happy with." All the men shook their heads, sighing, glancing at each other.

"That is ridiculous," Peter Woolf stated. "What do they think will happen, doing that? The boy will drop out of college? If that happens, he going to struggle getting in somewhere else, especially if he completely changes his course."

"I couldn't agree more," Simon stated, "When David was at college, one of his coursemates had come out as gay, and his parents kicked him out of his house, and stopped paying all his college fees. They left the boy homeless, with no college education and no money."

"That is terrible," Jeff said. "We are all fathers here, and I'm sure you agree with me, gentlemen, all we want is for our children to be happy, regardless of whether we agree with their choices, or not." Seeing all the men nod, including Dalton, Jeff let all the men go. "Well, it was good catching up with you, Will, but I need to speak with Senator Gold, excuse me." As the Secretary left, Peter and Simon also took their leave, Dalton being left alone with William McGee.

"You are a smart man, Frank, so you know what that was about, and what it means for you," William McGee had found out as much as he could about the man. "You will make sure Clark has the rest of the money he should have been getting over the last three months transferred to his bank account. You will also keep the transfers going."

"And if I don't?" Franklin Dalton was not going to be blackmailed into helping his idiot son like this.

"Well, whenever I talk to the President, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, General Woolf over there, or anyone else in the US Army, I will make it point to tell them who my son is dating, and what the mans father is like," Will watched as the man paled. "You try to get your son to quit college, and I will make sure you resign from the Army in disgrace, that is if you haven't been dishonourably discharged."

"You can't threaten me," Dalton said, his voice shaking.

"_Can't _means incapable. I am very capable of threatening you, and of carrying out that threat. You and your brother will leave Clark alone, and you will leave Tim alone. Go near either of them, and your life ends, figuratively or literally is up to you," Will was not going to let Clarks life be destroyed by this man. "Make sure the money keeps arriving in the bank account, and you keep your career. It's that simple." Will had kept his voice low, not wanting the conversation overheard, but he was now tired of speaking to the small minded fool. "Well, General, it was good meeting you, finally," Raising his voice slightly to be overheard by others, " I look forward to working with you, soon." William McGee turned away, catching the eyes of Simon Halt, who smiled at him. Admiral McGee was sure his mission had been a complete success.

* * *

Three days later, Clark Dalton was at the ATM, checking on his bank balance, seeing the amount surprised him. Getting a mini statement, he realised either his mom or dad had put his trust fund deposits back to what had been agreed, plus they had included what he hadn't been getting over the past two months. Clark decided not to celebrate too quickly, knowing his parents had control over the fund until he turned twenty one, and could just as quickly cut his deposits again.

Still, he would pick up some beers for him and Tim, knowing a store that didn't card for ID, as long as you didn't buy too much beer. Tonight, he planned to celebrate with Tim, and pay him back for all his help over the last few months.


End file.
